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Click hereTheory of the Damned
6/18/2010 6:00 PM
Chained there, as I taiste thy blood.
Within a mirror of a mirror.
And within a portal of a portal.
See me now as I scratch thy skin.
As I bleed you dry of sanity.
I kisseth thy breast like it were the very last piece of gold on this rotting Earth.
Yet you not know, that you are to be my humble servant.
Weather ye like it or not!
Chained there, oh my dear, look at your master.
You defiant little bitch.
You defiant little whore!
I like it when you look up at me with fear.
As these Demonic eyes of ruby fire read.
Look beyond your eyes.
Into the depths of thy soul.
Look at me now.
As I tilt thy head back.
Pull on your long black hair.
I kisseth the mouth of thy face, o how that black lipstick shineth in the dimn light of my chamber.
My mind echos my own lustful breath within to enter.
However I like the tease.
It Fewels the pleasure.
As I have you chained there, I wonder.
With my index finger of my right in wonder at my lower lip.
A look of wonder.
Of observation.
How you thrash and kick and scream.
Don't you know you are only making it worse for yourself?
O, little human girl, It's not that bad.
In fact, I treat my new slaves like this always.
And once they understand, the emotions I have for them.
The sick and twisted pleasure and love.
The climax of my orgasms in their mouth, their cunt and their hands.
And all over them.
And my days of rape eventually turn into love making with ravage.
Then they come to understand.
I am not one of these fagot, ill, nasty, stupid insects of wich you rome each night looking to make a few hundred for your use under your skirt and bra.
I'd take much better care and pleasure and value, in thy survice.
So don't you see?
This my soon to be love, whore and slave is better than the job of the former whore.
You don't belong on the corner.
But you belong with me.
To me.
On me.
Riding me.
Surving me.
Kissing me.
I promis once this is all over.
You'll come to understand.
And soon you would much rather want to be in the arms of this spector than the arms of those poor excuses for a man.
It's hard to know what is happening here. Maybe this is Gorean and/or goth stuff that I don't get. It seems like it is rife with errors but there is clearly intelligence behind it and also clear that much time went into writing it. It is dark. I think the writer has lots of talent it just doesn't show up in this piece.